Music in Paris

In 1248, nearly 800 years ago, Louis IX of France finished the construction of La Sainte Chapelle. Amazingly, it took just 7 years to build, compared to almost 200 years of building for Notre Dame. 

La Sainte Chapelle is most well-known for its truly amazing stained glass windows. On the upper floor of the chapel, the columns between the windows are merely there to support the intricate stained glass.

This evening (Monday), after our first full day in Paris, we went to a classical music concert in the chapel. It was an experience that played tricks with my mind.

On the one hand, I marveled at the creativity of humankind, of the beauty that is expressed through architecture, glass, stone, and paint. The music that soared upwards to the arches and filled every nook and cranny of the space was equally beautiful. Creative expression was a reminder, to me, of one way that humans are created "in the image of God."

I gazed up to the blue ceiling decorated with golden stars as the string quartet played Mozart, Schubert, Vivaldi, and Pachelbel, and wondered, on the other hand, how we humans, capable of such amazing expressions of the deepest longings of the soul, can also inflict terrible pain and destruction upon other humans. The dichotomy baffles my mind.

I also wondered at the justice of spending so very much wealth on the construction of such a chapel designed not only to hold the supposed relic of Christ's crown of thorns, but also to consolidate political and religious power, at a time when the gap between the few very rich and the many very poor was immense. 

In some ways, when I look at today's world, I see that the rich still take advantage of the poor, and wonder that so little has changed.

But most of my time was spent in wonder and amazement that I, an ordinary woman of the 21st century, could sit in this jewel box of a chapel constructed by an absolute monarch of the 13th century and listen to music composed between those centuries. It was a beautiful gift.

The good, more good and the ugly

Lots of goodness in the garden these days. The blueberries are winding down, but there are still enough to pick a batch every few days for topping breakfast granola. 

Last night we drove to Chemainus for dinner followed by musical theatre. Les Misérables. It was so very, very good. Such a wonderful story of the power of grace and love. "To love another person is to see the face of God." I'm still thinking about the story and the soaring voices. 
 

White phlox is blooming, standing tall and fragrant against the cedar hedge. White and green loveliness. A couple of weeks ago I lost my watch (my regular one) while gardening. I dug through the compost bin, through the recycle bin (where the weeds go) and looked in the garden beds. No luck. 

Today I noticed something shiny in the grass in front of the compost bin. I was watering at the time and turned the hose on the shiny, thinking it might be a slug. Nope. It was my watch, still keeping perfect time. Can't think how it survived a lawn mowing, two days of rain, and perhaps being stepped on. Remember the old Timex watch commercials where the watch was subjected to all kinds of rough treatment? This could be a real advertisement, except it's not a Timex.
 

I spent a couple of hours in the garden this morning, too, weeding, pruning, admiring. The tomatoes are looking good - still a few more weeks until we eat one, although there is a stem of cherry tomatoes reddening nicely. Every year the tomato plants reach out to one another until I can't tell where one plant begins and the other ends. I read recently that tomatoes like to be crowded, so I'm off the hook. I'll let them sprawl all over each other, in spite of trying to control them with tomato cages.
 

These hydrangeas are the very opposite of ugly. But I can't show you a picture of the ugly because I don't have one. You wouldn't want to see it anyway. Our city is a seaport. Seaport equals rat population. They've been awful this year. In the past two weeks we've trapped and killed 4 of them. Ugh. And we think that someone in the neighbourhood is poisoning them because there's a terrible smell coming from the woodpile, which means that a rat has probably crawled in there to die. Ugh, ugh, ugh. 

I never told you about our Christmas Day Rat Massacre, either. Usually the rats stay down by the compost bins. On Christmas Day I noticed a rat on the deck/patio. Tim set the trap (peanut butter does the trick) and one took the bait within 20 minutes. He reset the trap. Three more times within the space of 2 hours. Four rats. Ugh, ugh, ugh. 
 

I can't leave you with the ugly, so here's a pretty surprise. Our clematis did poorly during the two years the house was rented. So I pulled it up and discarded it. The hydrangea bush is in front of where the clematis formerly grew. Today I noticed, among the hydrangea blossoms, some lovely big, purple clematis flowers. I'll try and detangle it from the hydrangea bush in the fall. 

What's good around your place?

A Gift of Music

"Don't make plans for Saturday night," he said.

"What shall I wear?" replied I.

"I'm going to wear a suit and tie," said he.

So I gussied up in a wine-coloured dress, a velvet jacket, my pearls with the addition of a brooch (as suggested by Duchess), crystal earrings and a gold and silver bag. The poor picture above was taken in the late afternoon, so it doesn't show off my sartorial efforts too well.

We went out for a casual dinner, then to the Royal Theatre downtown to hear the Victoria Symphony's "Sentimental Christmas" concert.  Such a lovely surprise date planned by Tim.

The first half of the evening consisted of sentimental Christmas tunes from the 20th century - White Christmas, Winter Wonderland, etc. which were enjoyable and had the audience tapping their toes and/or swaying in their seats, especially during the numbers accompanied by the the vocal talent of the College of Performing Arts students. 

While I enjoyed the tunes, the music that has echoed in my mind and heart since then are three pieces - the haunting loveliness of Greensleeves (What Child is This?), the joyful precision of Bach's Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring, and the forceful energy of Bizet's La Farandole (from the L'Arlésienne Suite.) Music is such a gift.

What are your favorite Christmas pieces? Popular, classical, carols?